Work Text:
I don't care, I love you anyhow.
It is too late to turn you out of my heart.
Part of you lives here.
-Anne Sexton, from A self-portrait in Letters
-
In Wooyoung’s old building there is a laundry room.
The elevator doesn't work properly and more than once he has been forced to climb up to the fourth floor where he lives. This becomes a pain especially the days where he goes to do his groceries. Feeling pity for the delivery guys, Wooyoung is self conscious about buying anything by the internet.
Besides that, the place freezes in the winter and gets unbearably hot in the summer. They have humidity issues and usually there is a time in the year where Wooyoung doesn't have any other option but to accept the fact that he will be smashing giant cockroaches because the administrator doesn't seem to consider fumigation as a priority.
It is to be expected. After all, the only reason Wooyoung was able to rent the shithole he now calls home is because of the cheap price. Something like that doesn't come with amenities. Having a roof over his head at nights and somewhere where he can actually enjoy life while he puts in order what he wants to do is more than enough.
Like that, in general his building is a shithole but it has a functioning laundry room and that's more what he can ask for.
Surely, it is an old place with washing machines that could perfectly belong to a dump instead of the building. Yet, they do the task of cleaning Wooyoung’s clothes and then drying them. At this rate, the fact he can wear clean clothes every week without needing to leave the building is a privilege.
Wooyoung is sure everyone in the building uses it because he has to sign himself up on a sheet of paper every week. There are different slots to use the washing machines. There are only four of them, after all. Wooyoung doesn't mind because everyone respects the schedule of the other and by doing that he has been able to get to know his neighbors such as the old lady from the floor above him or the teenage girl who lives with her alcoholic father. Once she told him she wants to become an idol and has two part-time jobs to pay for her singing and dancing academia. Wooyoung told her he is going to be her best fan and will attend all of her concerts.
Wooyoung likes the laundry room. It smells like soap and it has a comfortable calmness attached to it. Even the buzzing of the old machines become a lullaby for him and more than once he has ended up closing his eyes while sitting on the plastic chair, waiting for his laundry to be ready. He enjoys that routine of entering, sitting down to wait and then standing up to take the load and put it inside the dryer machine.
In a nostalgic way, the laundry room is a magical place where old meets the new.
But above all, Wooyoung likes it because of him.
And he is here today as well.
“Oh, goodnight, Wooyoung-ah.”
Hongjoong smiles at him when he enters the room while carrying his white basket case full of dirty clothes. As usual, he is wearing an oversized black hoodie and baggy pants that seem to belong to his pajamas. The earrings that decorate his ears sparkle under the white, artificial light coming from the ceiling and although his smile is more beautiful than the most romantic sunset, Wooyoung can't find himself to do the same.
He doesn't move from his position on the chair.
Wooyoung’s legs are stretched as far as they can go and his back is arched in an uncomfortable position that probably makes him look like a shrink. But he doesn't care. His eyes can't look away from what is evident. The painful reality. A part of him, deep inside, gets angry at the way Hongjoong acts. Wooyoung has to squeeze his hands inside the pockets of his own leather jacket to prevent his fury from standing up more.
It is almost admirable the way Hongjoong acts as if nothing is wrong.
He does his usual way to the available routine and starts putting the clothes inside it. It seems like he already separated the clothes. Today is the turn for colors.
It is monotonous. Something he has done millions of times before.
Wooyoung observes him throwing a shirt, then some pants, another shirt, what looks like a hoodie and then he stops looking at his hands to concentrate on his face. Hongjoong hums while doing that and, on another occasion, on a different night, Wooyoung would sing along with him while holding his hand to pull him closer to his body so they can dance dumbly without caring about doing it well. They would laugh imagining the possibility of them becoming singers. Stupidly, they would hold interviews and throw whole speeches after winning awards that were nothing but the bottles of soap.
“Are you okay, hyung?”
“Sure I am. Why are you asking?”
Wooyoung doesn't answer.
He doesn't have that type of energy either.
If he answers sincerely, he is going to fight with him and he doesn't want that. If he tries to be sarcastic, it will be the same. There is no safe option for him to take. So, silence will be for now.
Noticing that, Hongjoong follows his lead and just starts pressing the buttons to start the machine. Then, he turns around. The basket is now empty laying on the floor. He looks at him with an apologetic smile and it seems like Wooyoung’s silence is more powerful than his scolds and worries.
The older one looks down with an uncomfortable posture and carefully raises one hand to touch his face.
Wooyoung flinches when he does that.
“I'm fine, Young-ah. It was my fault after all-”
“Bullshit.” Wooyoung spits.
Right now he feels as if he could stand up and run the four floors to knock on Hongjoong’s apartment door until it is opened. The place he shares with whom he calls his boyfriend. Wooyoung doesn't care about the man being jacked in muscles or how tall he is in comparison to him. In his internal fury, Wooyoung wants nothing more but to hurt him as much as he hurts Hongjoong.
Even more.
“He's a fucking beast. I’ll kill him.”
“Don't say that.” Hongjoong whispers. Finally, the smile disappears from his face to become something close to a pout. “Please.”
Fuck.
Wooyoung hates when Hongjoong uses his please because he is already a weak point on his own. Hongjoong could ask him the most stupid or dangerous thing and he would do it because it was him saying it.
“I'm really okay.”
“How can you lie to me like that, Hongjoong?”
There is no way he is okay.
“Look at what he did to your face.”
It is painful.
Hongjoong’s lower lip is open in what seems like a cut, left eye black with the bruise expanding down to his cheekbone and even to part of his forehead, there is another bruise in his chin and if Wooyoung squints his eyes he is sure the marks in Hongjoong’s neck are not because of the shadow created by the lights.
Wooyoung sits down better, pressing his arms on his knees.
He has to take a deep breath to calm himself.
“Fuck, look at what he did to you…”
He can’t even finish.
Wooyoung licks his dry lips feeling nauseous.
He tries to erase the thought of how Hongjoong’s body must look like right now. If that was the result on his face, he can’t even imagine what he did to the rest of him.
“I hate him. I fuckin’ hate him.”
“I'm sorry to upset you.” Hongjoong’s words come like a whisper and Wooyoung opens his eyes, raising his head to look at him. The other is smiling shyly, as if he is trying to comfort Wooyoung in a way. “Should I change my schedule?”
“Don't you dare” Wooyoung answers back, shaking his head and standing up from the chair fast enough for the thing to tremble below him. “Don't you dare to do that. I will sign on the same schedule as you then. You're not getting rid of me that easily, hyung.”
Hongjoong giggles and presses his back in one of the unused machines.
How wonderful and bizarre to believe they met because of this stupid and old laundry room. Perhaps, that is one of the main reasons for Wooyoung to like the place so much.
Wooyoung has an hectic lifestyle that goes between studying, practicing and working. As a result of that, he never had enough time to do chores during the day. The only time available was past midnight and, like that, although he was almost falling down on his face because of how tired he was he collected his dirty clothes and went down searching for the laundry.
He met Hongjoong then.
Hongjoong who was also doing his laundry and, the moment Wooyoung entered with a zombie look on him, was waiting for the load to finish its cycle.
Wooyoung remembers that first encounter because Hongjoong had been drawing.
He was sitting in one of the chairs, legs crossed, thick and old sketchbook on top of his knees and humming. When Wooyoung entered he didn't know if he needed to greet him or if the situation was going to become more awkward if he actually did. Honestly, he hadn't been expecting someone else to be there and his brain stopped working when encountering reality.
At the end, not only did he say goodnight at him but also praised his drawing.
“Really?” Hongjoong’s face had bloomed after the praise. “Do you really think it's pretty?”
It was.
The tiger Hongjoong had been drawing looked realistic and majestic. It appeared as if it was going to walk out from the paper, standing in front of them and growling with its orange fur glowing. Such talent couldn't be ignored. In his whole life Wooyoung had never met someone who could draw like that. The most interesting thing in all of that was how old Hongjoong’s pencil looked. The kind of thing that sometimes you found on the floor after class and decided to pick because leaving it there was going to become a waste.
The drawing was in fact pretty yet Hongjoong was prettier.
Hongjoong wasn't bruised the night they first met but when he said he lived on the fourth floor and shared his apartment number with Wooyoung something ugly vibrated inside him.
Of course, at that moment he couldn't be sure and thought he was exaggerating.
“Oh, we are neighbors then.” Wooyoung answered instead with an easy-going smile on his face.
But then, one night he heard the shouting and noises again. Like that, he knew it wasn't his imagination anymore. The ugly feeling he had in that first encounter came back stronger, making him unable to stay still. Following that, Wooyoung stood up from his bed, looking at the wall he shared with the next apartment.
He felt a nasty emotion growing in his belly.
It wasn't the first time he heard something like that but now that he knew Hongjoong was the one living there… He couldn't stay calm. Honestly, he had been a coward the previous times. He always tried to justify his passivity by thinking it wasn't his business. Whatever others did… It wasn't his call to go and stick his nose there. But then he couldn't stop thinking about the pretty boy with a shy smile drawing a doodle of him because Wooyoung asked him to. The thought of Hongjoong being the source of such noises wasn't logical in Wooyoung’s head and, noticing it was almost ten already (a time where such a fuss was less than appropriate because people needed to sleep or study), he knocked the door of his neighbor.
He didn’t find Hongjoong.
A young, unknown man opened instead and looked at him as if Wooyoung was a nuisance. Just a rat or a cockroach that decided to appear right before he started eating.
“What?”
“Uhm-”
It is always hilarious how you believe you're going to be able to answer and face tough situations but the moment they are placed in front of you there is nothing to be said.
That happened to Wooyoung that day.
“Is everything okay? The noise-”
“Everything is okay.” The guy answered with a smile that made Wooyoung bite his tongue. He was a handsome man and probably popular because of his looks. “Just a little discussion. Nothing more. I'm sorry that we annoyed you.”
For a moment, Wooyoung thought about insisting more because it wasn't the first time such a situation happened. The noise was constant. However, he found himself unable to open his mouth to say something else. Instead of that, he nodded and bowed.
In response, the other man also bowed and smiled gently at him.
However, Wooyoung hadn't even finished writing the code of his door to go back to his apartment when he heard:
“Did you see that?! Your fuckin’ whimpers and noises upset our neighbor!”
A sound that was similar to something falling to the floor could be heard.
The following night Hongjoong arrived with a bruised face and arms, but on his face there was a smile as big as the one he carried the first time they met.
Since then, Wooyoung has come to the laundry every night religiously. Sometimes he doesn't even need to wash anything. He just sits on the same chair and waits for Hongjoong to arrive.
He dreads the nights where Hongjoong doesn't appear because Wooyoung fears he is trapped in that tiny apartment he shares with a monster or sometimes he wonders if he has been hurt to the point of being left unconscious or unable to stand up. Once Hongjoong arrived with a swollen wrist and it wasn't necessary to be a doctor to know he had a sprain. Yet, Hongjoong never went to check that because he said they didn't have the money for an appointment. Wooyoung repeated to him again and again that he could go with him, he was going to pay, but Hongjoong just shook his head and said he was okay.
“No, that cannot be.” Hongjoong had answered after much of Wooyoung’s insistence. “He can’t see me with you.
When Hongjoong said that, they had known each other for some months already.
It has always been easier talking in the night when nobody was there to judge you. The secrets they could exchange were just for them to hold. However, Hongjoong had never shared about his… boyfriend. He had never said how they met or why he was with him. Wooyoung couldn't understand how Hongjoong, someone sweet and kind, could use the same space with a disgusting piece of shit.
Yet, on some occasions Hongjoong even defended him.
He would say his boyfriend was kind (usually) but just had some issues and was stressed because of his work. Nothing more. He treated him right, Hongjoong would say and Wooyoung had the urge to keep on fighting with him on that.
Wooyoung knew a lot about Hongjoong. He knew about his dream and how he tried to pursue music as a first choice but in the end it didn’t work. He knew about his favorite color and food. He even knew how he preferred his coffee and where he studied when he was a kid.
The night Hongjoong had said that to him with a wrist that still needed recovery, Wooyoung knew he already liked him.
But after the following words, love came easier:
“I like you, Young-ah, you are… very precious to me.” Hongjoong had whispered with that smile of his. It was beautiful and sad the way he did it because it only appeared when he was feeling it for real. When Hongjoong was sorrowful, his face would become completely flat. “If he saw us, he wouldn't let me be with you. I don't want to lose you. You're my only friend.”
Because of that, they can only see each other at night.
Like now.
Tenderly, as if he is holding the most delicate flower, Wooyoung cups Hongjoong’s face and with the aid of the lighting he inspects the result. Just noticing how dark the bruises are makes him want to cry and kick at everything. It will take weeks for Hongjoong’s face to go back to normal. Probably, it hurts. There is a high possibility that Hongjoong feels pain when he speaks.
Hongjoong allows Wooyoung to look at him and the proximity doesn't seem to scare him. In a way, Wooyoung feels like the other is relaxing and melting under the touch. It wouldn't be the first time. In the past they cuddled together. They would sit on the floor, back against the wall and Hongjoong’s head would fall on his shoulder so Wooyoung would force himself to stay still to not bother him. He would pass one arm around his shoulders and caress him like that.
The hour that takes the laundry to finish feels like a breath when it’s just the two of them.
Wooyoung feels restless the rest of the day when Hongjoong is away from him and finally he can relax when he has the other in the protection of his arms.
It breaks his heart looking at how Hongjoong’s eyes close with his touch and how he opens his mouth to release the tiniest whimper. Wooyoung can't understand how someone can do something as horrible to this precious person.
His precious person.
“Hyung-”
“Don't. It's okay. I'm okay, really.”
Wooyoung wants to tell him he isn't okay, but instead he goes:
“I should have brought some ice.”
“Aren't you nice to me?”
Hongjoong says that as a joke. Nothing but a playful sentence but Wooyoung shakes his head and caresses the other’s skin with his thumbs. He does it as delicately as he can but even with that Hongjoong shivers and hisses.
Wooyoung releases him but doesn't stand away. Instead, he holds his hand.
“I'm leaving tomorrow.” Wooyoung whispers and because of how close they are he is able to see the moment Hongjoong tenses.
For a brief second, he feels like this time is going to be Hongjoong the one getting closer to hold him. He has done it in the past when everything gets too much, but now there is something that looks like raw desperation. The way his eyes are looking at him as if he is terrified makes Wooyoung interlock their fingers and keep the eye contact.
He wants to calm him down.
“I mean, just for a holiday. I'm going back home with my parents and will come back in two weeks.”
“Oh.” Hongjoong visibly relaxes, then he smiles and giggles. “How nice. I'm jealous. Bring me something, yes?”
“Come with me.”
Wooyoung holds his other hand. He can’t stop himself from bringing it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles in a tender way. He knows Hongjoong is looking at him because he can feel his eyes on him.
“I would like for you to come with me.” It's impossible and nonsense. Wooyoung knows that. There is no way Hongjoong, the one who leaves his apartment to only do chores and groceries, could go with him. “It will be fun. We will be together. My parents are nice and you're… very welcome there. You can meet my little brother too.”
When he finally looks at him he encounters Hongjoong’s panicked expression.
He isn’t smiling and his forehead is shining with sweat. Noticing his proximity is not helping, Wooyoung gives a step back to allow Hongjoong some rest but he doesn't release his hands.
“I mean, please? Would you come with me?”
“I can't… You know I can't, Young-ah. He would be mad at you and me and-”
“You don't need to come back here. We will find somewhere else.” Far away from here. “We can leave tonight if you want. Right now. You don't need to pack or say anything. I’ll be with you, please… I- Would you come with me?”
For the first time since he knew him, Hongjoong’s eyes are shining because of tears. Even on the worst nights, he had never cried. Wooyoung suspects he cries when he is alone. It breaks his heart knowing that.
“Why would you say that to me, Young-ah? You're… you,” Wooyoung doesn't understand the meaning of that, but Hongjoong looks away and the first tear falls down. “I'm ugly and skinny and- and… there's no way someone like me can have good things. And you're a good thing. A perfect thing. I'm going to ruin it. I don't-”
“Don't. Don't say that.”
Wooyoung can't stop himself from growling. He has to force himself to stay calm because right now the worst he can do is lose his calmness. Hongjoong is already exposed to enough violence. He doesn't need more.
“Whatever he has been telling you is a lie. You're more than enough. I like you, hyung, for real. I like you.” Wooyoung can even say that he loves him but he's not going to overwhelm Hongjoong with such words. He would have liked for such a confession to be in a better, more romantic environment but now the words are leaving his mouth with desperation. “Please, come with me. I’ll protect you. I swear I’ll protect you.”
“He will come after me- I… I just know that. He is not going to leave me alone, Wooyoung.”
“I’ll not let him harm you again. I swear. I will be with you.”
Hongjoong closes his mouth shut and Wooyoung feels him trembling.
He wants to kiss his mouth. Wooyoung aches to hold Hongjonog’s body against him in a tender embrace where he can protect him from everything and everyone. He doesn't know how Hongjoong ended up in this situation, but he doesn't deserve it. Wooyoung can’t stand still looking at it. Part of him knows he's being pushy and probably, overwhelming Hongjoong but he can't hold himself.
In a perfect future, Wooyoung sees himself living with Hongjoong and being happy together. They don't need a fancy apartment. It could be this rat hole for all Wooyoung cares but they would be together and their place would be to love each other only. They would build a home filled with love, respect and kindness.
Wooyoung would prepare breakfast for Hongjoong and kiss him on the cheek to wake him up. On the weekends, they would cuddle in their messy bed to watch series on Wooyoung’s old laptop and kiss in the boring scenes. He would hold him in the nights and kiss each already faded bruise. If a scar was left, Wooyoung would caress it with his lips. They would dance in the night to stupid songs and laugh until their stomachs hurt.
He would whisper love words to Hongjoong and worship his whole body.
Wooyoung wants to go for a walk around the park, interlocking their pinkies so nobody else can see them and take photos of Hongjoong when he is not aware. He would select one of these to put it as his home screen and then a selfie of them together for the lockscreen.
He would like to sit down with Hongjoong and look at him while he draws. He wants to admire the way his face contours in concentration and how he mimics the expressions he wants to draw.
“Please, hyung, come with me.”
“I…”
Wooyoung is asking too much.
He knows.
Hongjoong is going to say no. He is going to get away and say he is talking nothing but nonsense. How are they going to leave right now? He doesn't have his wallet or his phone with him. He doesn't have any extra clothes. Hongjoong is right now wearing his pajama with a bruised face and with only an old basket to his feet.
Wooyoung is losing hope but then Hongjoong squeezes their fingers and, gently, he kisses the corner of his mouth.
Laundry forgotten, Wooyoung takes his phone from his pocket to buy two tickets in the closest train he can find. Then, he keeps holding Hongjoong’s hand when he rushes him out of the building and starts jogging to wait for the bus that will take them to the train station. He doesn't let go once they are sitting inside the bus, looking at the streets. Wooyoung separates just long enough to take his jacket off to give it to his hyung but then he is interlocking their fingers again and Hongjoong is placing his head on his shoulder.
Wooyoung is grateful he took his wallet with him when leaving his apartment because he is able to buy Hongjoon a warm bread filled with chocolate in the 24/7 market close to the station.
Although he doesn't like seeing him cry, he adores the way his eyes shine with tears and his mouth curls in a smile while he munches the sweet treat.
They are already sitting inside the train when Wooyoung remembers the washing machine full of clothes and how someone is going to complain about that.
He laughs.